Aegis
by Captain-Trina
Summary: Of all the people in the von Karma manor, no one unsettles Miles Edgeworth as much as his new foster sister.


Miles Edgeworth gazed darkly at an equally gloomy sky. A misty drizzle left minute beads on the vehicle's window as the German countryside blurred past. The rain had started just as his plane touched down earlier in the day and still showed no signs of flagging.

On the other side of the luxury sedan, Manfred von Karma stared forward, a calculating expression creasing his stone face. He had not spoken since giving his command to the chauffeur.

The mansion was cold when they arrived. Von Karma strode in confidently, firmly, while Miles followed doggedly, tugging an oversized suitcase across the slick marble floor.

"Christoph."

A severe looking butler of indeterminate age appeared at one of the lower doorways. "You called?"

"This is Miles Edgeworth. He shall be staying permanently. You are to serve him as you serve the von Karma name."

Miles shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny of the butler's intense gaze. After several very long seconds, the servant turned back to Manfred. "It shall be as you say. Dinner is prepared in the dining parlor. Will there be anything else?"

"Take Edgeworth's belongings to the small guest room. Summon Franziska for the meal."

The man bowed deeply before raising Miles' suitcase effortlessly and disappearing up the ornate staircase.

Miles followed von Karma down a large hallway, empty but for a series of portraits depicting grim, stern men. Miles felt their stares keenly, as though he were being judged for his worthiness of living under the mansion's vaulted stone ceiling.

"Come, Edgeworth."

Only when von Karma spoke did Miles realize he'd stopped, frozen as though a lack of movement would save him from the attentions of the painted men. Miles stepped quickly (because it couldn't be running, that would be too undignified) to the open room before him.

The banquet table was laden with rich meats and hearty soups, and their aromas filled the dining hall. Miles became suddenly and strongly aware of the fact that he hadn't eaten since the previous day.

There were soft, padded footsteps behind him, so light he half expected to find a dog when he turned. Instead he was greeted with the sight of a very young, very strange child. She was a mere toddler, but unlike most she was immaculately clean, jumper and frilled collar free of dribble, dirt, or crumbs. Even if she had looked as disordered as the average babe, her face would have made up for it: stern and unsmiling, with a degree of condescension that most adolescents couldn't manage.

"Franziska, this is Miles Edgeworth. He will be staying with us."

The small girl's razor-sharp focus snapped to him, her eyes narrowed slightly. He felt a sudden empathy for a lioness's prey. After a few fraught moments, she lost interest (which probably said less about her attention span and more about what she felt was worthy of it) and proceeded to the dinner table with all the slink and grace of the aforementioned cat. Miles followed suit after a terse throat clearing from von Karma, albeit in a manner more akin to a squirrel or rabbit.

Miles's new-found hunger vaporized in the presence of the odd child. The few mouthfuls he did manage were the most stressful of his life, soup spoon held rigidly as if a stray drop of broth would burn the tablecloth like acid. She, of course, ate perfectly using her smaller but otherwise identical utensils. Even her milk was in a crystal tumbler — Miles imagined any plastic sippy cup on the premise would quickly roll itself out the door in shame.

Once Franziska's plate was clean, she solemnly turned to her father — it was incredibly obvious by now that they were related — and asked, "May be 'cused?", formality surprisingly unmarred by her still-developing speech. Von Karma nodded once and the girl slipped from her chair, dipping briefly in what he supposed was a curtsey before exiting to the Hall of Scary Old Men (as he had mentally dubbed it for now). Miles would have done the same, except that he still had no idea where anything was, save the front door.

After twenty minutes more of uncomfortable silence (judging by the amount of melted candle wax), von Karma drained the last of his Cabernet. "Are you finished, Edgeworth?", he inquired, with more than a hint of disapproval at how much food was still before the boy.

Miles ducked his head to avoid the judging stare of his new guardian. "Yes, sir." A tiny part of him was proud that his voice was at least steady and clearly audible.

"Look at me, Edgeworth," von Karma demanded. Miles's eyes automatically snapped to his face. "Your father told me you wish to be an attorney. An attorney that cannot maintain eye contact will quickly be overrun by his opponent. Do you wish to win your cases?"

Von Karma's glare intensified. Miles wanted to hide under the table, but he made himself look back. "Y-yes, sir." The glare remained. He cleared his throat and tried again. "_Yes, si__r._"

Apparently satisfied for the moment, von Karma rang a small bell that had sat next to his table settings all meal. The stony-faced butler from earlier appeared within the minute.

"Christoph, you will show Edgeworth to his room."

Christoph nodded in acknowledgment, then turned his permanent frown to Miles, who scuttled out of his seat.

Miles was led through multiple corridors and up two separate flights of stairs, all of which where decorated in a way as to give the impression of a museum rather than a lived-in home. Finally, the butler opened a door to reveal a vast room that, while a third the size of the dining parlor, was twice as large as his old bedroom. A canopied queen-size bed was centered along one wall. Opposite it were a matching trunk and chest of drawers, both in dark polished wood with thick metal hardware, and a large window lay hidden by weighty curtains.

"Your room, young sir. Your belongings have been unpacked."

Miles started at the nearly accusatory sound of the butler's voice. "Um, thank you." Christoph didn't even blink. Miles forced himself to match the man's stare, and with a level of confidence that he possessed only a tenth of, dismissed him with, "That will be all."

The butler neither nodded nor spoke, simply closed the door. Only after his footsteps had disappeared down the hallway did Miles collapse on the bed in relief and in exhaustion from being so on edge for the past hour. Was this really what the rest of his childhood was going to be like?

Eventually, he dragged himself to the drawers, where after a few moments of searching he located and donned a set of button-down pajamas (and thanked chance that he'd never been the sort of boy to wear a t-shirt and flannel pants to bed). He crawled under the heavy, maroon coverlet and settled in for much-needed sleep.

* * *

><p>It took several months before Edgeworth began to feel some level of familiarity with the house and its strange, severe residents. In time, it at least felt natural to be constantly called by his surname, and neither did it take long to remember which utensil to use at the dinner table. Even the sternness of his guardian and the house staff could feel routine, if never entirely comfortable. But the one thing that was no less unnerving was little Fransizka.<p>

It just wasn't natural, a two-year-old — or was she three now? — behaving like a grown woman, though not any grown woman he'd ever met. He'd once found her in her bedroom, her handful of stuffed animals arranged suspiciously like a courtroom. She had sat in the place of one of the attorneys and proceeded to jabber aggressively at the plush dachshund on the stand. For any other child, the display would have been an adorable impression of her father's occupation, but she was a little too into her "cross-examining" - especially when she got frustrated with her witness and started hitting it with a ruler.

But bizarrely precocious girls aside, the unusual had become usual, which turned out to be unfortunate for Edgeworth. Dealing with the discomfort of his surroundings had provided a much-needed distraction for his brain, and shortly after came the first night that he woke with a scream. Christoph knocked and inquired in his gravely voice if the young sir required assistance. Miles managed an only partly shaken "no", and the butler never acknowledged further disturbances. Neither did anyone else, with the exception of a single occasion.

* * *

><p>"Father!"<p>

Miles shot upright, breath heavy and cheeks damp. After the brief reorientation to the waking world, he fell back on his pillow.

Without warning, the bedroom door opened a crack. The gas lamps in the corridor silhouetted a remarkably unfazed child.

"Miles Edgeworth bad dreams?" Even at her age, she managed to make the question sound as full of contempt as if her father had asked it.

"Go away, Fransizka," he demanded. His voice was habitually firm by this point in his residency, and even the residual terror of his nightmares couldn't shake it.

She remained, calculating, before she obliged and closed the door. Miles rolled onto his side and stared at the drawn curtain while he willed his mind back to blankness.

He had just begun to drift off again when the door opened a second time, and light footfalls approached. Curiosity overrode any desire to complain about Fransizka's behavior, so he lay perfectly still, even when he sensed her standing directly beside his bed. There was the soft rustle of cloth on cloth, and then she retreated.

Miles waited until he was sure she wasn't going to return a third time before lifting his head. He could just make out a light shape against the dark blanket. He reached out to it and felt short, soft fur.

For the first time since arriving at the manor, a flicker of a smile crossed Miles's face. He held the stuffed animal close, closed his eyes, and slept deeply and peacefully. After all, he had a fierce lioness on his side.


End file.
